


Something about you just makes me feel guilty for liking you: Tarantinoverse Ficlets

by Wolfermann



Category: Inglourious Basterds (2009), Once Upon A Time In Hollywood (2019), Reservoir Dogs (1992)
Genre: Cliff is smitten, Comfort, Conspiracy Theories, Established Relationship, I think Omar is probably the funniest character in the whole movie, M/M, Mr. Brown is just Tarantino but tolerable, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pre-Canon, Pre-Heist, Reflection, Rick has a cute stutter, Secret Relationship, Self-Reflection, Tenderness, The Tarantinoverse, assholes in love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:33:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26182729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfermann/pseuds/Wolfermann
Summary: A small collection from various movies all within the tcu (Tarantino cinematic universe).Chapter 1. Cliff and Rick go on ride through HollywoodChapter 2. Mr. Brown thinks the moon landing is a hoax and Mr. Pink has to cope with being stuck with himChapter 3. Omar and Donny have a moment before they try to kill Hitler and Co.
Relationships: Cliff Booth & Rick Dalton, Cliff Booth/Rick Dalton, Donny Donowitz/Omar Ulmer, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Mr. Brown/Mr. Pink (Reservoir Dogs), Mr. Orange/Mr. White (Reservoir Dogs), cherry cola
Comments: 11
Kudos: 30





	1. Leaf On A Falling Yacht: Cliff Booth/Rick Dalton

**Author's Note:**

> Cliff Booth does some reflection about his life and relationship with his best friend, Rick Dalton while driving him around town

Cliff Booth didn’t mind being a bonafide chauffeur when it came to evenings like this, where he gets to sit with the Rick Dalton and watch the Hollywood sunset. The stuntman drummed his fingers on the roof of the car along with the song blaring from the radio while his boss curled up in the leather seat beside him, pouring over a movie script for a part he begrudgingly accepted. They had a lot of time to kill, both men stuck in the long commute between set, the Hills, wherever Rick wanted to go, and finally Van Nuys.

“Why’d you go on and take this? Another villain for some cowboy flick? Thought you were done with these?” Cliff experimentally prodded, trying to understand what was going through the other man’s mind. Rick was becoming more tense and drunk by the day, like a dying star about to implode on itself. The stuntman knew the telltale signs of a dying career which meant they were both shit out of luck. If the actor goes, so does his shadow. They were doomed to bad pilots, small gigs, and eventually the humiliating move back home (bum fuck nowhere Missouri or the ruralist of rural Tennessee). California was booming but Hollywood was expensive and fickle. They’d be chewed up, spit out, and forgotten in the next five years- if they were lucky.

They really were going nowhere fast. Cliff was coping well, or he thought he was. Falling back into his routine of being a handyman, shoulder to cry on, and occasional lover to his best friend kept him going. Rick needed him and he could survive off of his caretaker role until the actor tossed him aside. Cliff hoped, maybe, just maybe, that day would never come. Eleven years of carrying another man’s load felt like heaven up until recently.

“I-I told y-y-you already, pal. Gotta pay my mortgage. A-and the director said he might pull in John Wayne! Just for a cameo, of course.” Rick barely glanced up from the pages, while gripping the middle seat as if the actor was about to be sucked out into the rapture at any moment.

The stuntman shifted, trading his left hand from outside the car to the wheel in order to gently graze his fingers against the back of Rick’s hand with his right. It was a risky game to play in public, the paparazzi still cared to take a few photos of the ex-Jake Cahill or the rumored wife killing stuntman. But they wouldn’t be able to see them acting out of the “ordinary” as they sped down the road (cautiously, after all this wasn’t his car and Rick had enough tickets as is). Rick flinched at first, usually the actor was the one to initiate things between them but he took Cliff’s calloused hand in his, squeezing tightly.

“Well if John Wayne’s involved, it’s sure to be a hit. I can see it now. The Duke and _the_ Rick Dalton.” Cliff couldn’t be more pleased, his heart leaping in his chest as he steadied his friend. Between the touch and praise, Rick seemed to lighten up. A glimmer of the man Cliff loved more than anything rising to the surface. He missed seeing Rick smile, truly smile, not that fake shit for the camera but the one where his eyes crinkled and the Missouri boy in him slipped out.

“They’ll probably have me do stunts, I think I c-can get you a few good days of work.” Maybe things weren’t as grim as they seemed. Cliff could make anything work, so long as Rick Dalton loved him.

“Sounds like a dream to me, honey.”


	2. Passing Judgement On Me Again- Mr. Brown/Mr. Pink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two men trapped in a car waiting to rob a jewelry store, and one of them gets on the topic of conspiracy theories

“It’s, it’s not about the moon landing. Look you’re not fucking getting it.” Mister Brown prattled on with the intensity of a televangelist hurting for his third private jet. Mister Pink was trapped in a hot car in the middle of the day with the weirdest man he had ever met to keep him company. Whenever the young criminal opened his mouth, Pink couldn’t help but listen. Even when his nerves rattled about their upcoming job, he had to keep Brown talking because it was always the craziest shit he ever heard that would come pouring out.

“You’re either a believer in whatever the government feeds you about landing on the moon or you’re a rational person who sees it as another Cold War tactic to beat the Reds. What more could there possibly be?” Pink asserted, half smoked cigarette balanced between his thumb and middle finger, the ashes threatening to burn a hole in his good Hawaiian shirt. The taller man snorted, had the gall, the _audacity_ to laugh at his partner as if he said something completely moronic.

“Stanley Kubrick. Y’know him right?” Pink narrowed his eyes at Brown questioning his cinematic knowledge.

“Course I know him. We only watched the Shining last weekend.” Pink was a professional, he played by the rules, he made his money and he fucked off after all was said and done. Joe Cabot had painstakingly crafted a team of criminals for his jewelry heist, putting the six men into pairs. White and Orange-both doe eyed for one another and tethered at the hip, Blonde and Blue- the hot head and the old man who seemed to get along just peachy, and finally Pink and Brown- the odd men out. Pink was good at his job but he let things slip.

After their stakeout shift last Saturday, when Brown invited him back to his seedy motel room to watch a movie and get a pizza. He wasn’t supposed to get to know the man at all but he ended up spending more than the length of a movie and a couple beers with him. The shorter man sweated all day Sunday, worried Joe might come calling about fucking up as if the mob boss had him under surveillance. Nothing ever came about it and Brown never mentioned being approached either the next time they were called into work.

“Right, right, right,” Brown rubbed the pathetic soul patch he called facial hair while continuing whatever train of thought he was on. “Brilliant man- absolutely brilliant film maker but he was the guy who filmed the moon landing.”

“Bullshit!” Pink felt his eyes roll into the back of his head and bounce back to the street where he saw a young couple enter into the jewelry shop, probably looking for a smaller diamond than the Cabot’s were interested in. He locked eyes on their movement to keep from absolutely losing his mind.

“No bullshit!” Brown retorted, becoming more animated as he spoke. Both men were high strung, living off a diet of cigarettes and coffee by the pack and pot. They meshed well together, even when they were up in arms about something stupid. “He did it but Kubrick wanted it so realistic he forced them all into space where he created a set like a second moon for Buzz Aldrin to land on!”

“You’re fucking insane!” That was it, the straw that broke the camels back. Pink slapped the dashboard with his free hand, in personal agony over just how idiotic Brown sounded right now. It really was a good thing his only job was to drive the rest of the men from the heist. The taller man quickly jumped to his own defense.

“No! No! I ain’t anything but brilliant, doll. It’s gonna come out any day now. And you’ll be saying, ‘oh Mister Brown, you were right about the Moon Landing. I should have been nicer to you this whole time.’” Brown tried his best impression, changing his pitch to something offensively high to represent his fuming partner in the passengers seat. Pink noted being called “Doll”, not exactly knowing how to stomach a name that could be interpreted as a term of endearment. He wouldn’t ever mention it, hoping it would slip from Brown’s mind like relevant thoughts often did when he got off on some pop culture based tangent.

“It will all come out on CIA documents who really faked it. Just Kubrick being a visionary.” Brown grinned at him, like he played his trump card. He winked at his partner, trying his best to charm him. Pink wouldn’t give him the satisfaction, even if it killed him. Instead he flicked his dying cigarette out the window and offered his rebuttal.

“Yeah and if they ever do, I’ll give you a call with a long apology. Maybe even a fruit basket. Since you’re a fruit.” Brown let out a laugh at the not so gentle ribbing.

“Aw c’mon, you know I’m right and you love me. I’m your buddy.” He placed a sweaty palm onto the shorter man’s shoulder, leaning in as he spoke. Pink smacked his gross paw off him, earning a surprised yelp from the driver.

“Hey asshole, watch the shop! We’re on the clock.” Pink ran his hand through his greasy chestnut hair, noticing as the couple from earlier exited the jewelry store. It was the most action they had seen all day but the smaller thief could still be pissy about it. “Why don’t you get me some coffee since you keep making me do all the god damn work?” Brown pouted at him before starting the car.

“Hey, Pink. I’m sorry. I’ll get you something. Hey have I ever told you my thoughts on Red Apple Cigarettes yet?” He couldn’t take another round of nonsense, though his interests were perked. Pink picked up a packet of Red Apple Cigarettes the belonged to his partner, taking one as tax for putting up with his constant bullshit.

“Make it a coffee and dinner if you’re going to put me through it!” Brown took his words as a challenge, already clearly wiggling in his seat as he couldn’t contain himself.

“No you gotta hear this one- it all starts with a director-.” Pink cut him off one last time with a much needed scream into his hands.


	3. Living Ghost- Donny Donowitz/Omar Ulmer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon on tumblr asked for anything related to Donny Donowitz/Omar Ulmer and I got to thinking about their last moments in the movie

Omar Ulmer reaches out to grab onto flying tuxedo shirt tails as Donny Donowitz tosses the jacket aside, scrambling at this point to get ready for the next part of the plan. They had already seamlessly blended into the Germans at the film premier despite being entirely out of their element, something Omar was pleased about personally knowing exactly no Italian, and now waited on the perfect opportunity to storm the box containing the most dangerous man alive. He understood why the Sargent was so nervous but it seemed almost alien to him.

Donny was Donny. Donny was the coolest guy he had ever met. He was handsome and foul mouthed. The Bear Jew! A legend that if whispered to some shit headed jackboot fascist they would piss themselves in pure terror. Over the years Omar had taken a special kind of delight seeing Donny absolutely obliterate Nazis like they were nothing to him. He watched the man peacock around the backwoods of France, tormenting the Nazis with his exaggerated performances, and he ate it up, bolstering the man’s ego in front of the other Basterds and even in the private of their shared quarters.

Omar loves Donny more than anything but seeing him scared, well it threw him off more than having live explosives strapped to his leg. Donny had been unable to keep still since Aldo and the German Actress disappeared ( _Hammer-mock? Hammock?? Whatever.._.) It took several gentle reminders from the Private to keep him from attracting unwanted attention while watching the not so great film ( _maybe it would have been better if he understood any German or if it had really any plot but he wasn’t a Lieutenant Hicox when it came to film reviews._ )

The Bear Jew took to rooting around in the trash for any discarded materials they could work with, an easy way to disguise his outright worry from his partner. This shit was serious. The big leagues, the fucking World Series of Nazi killing.

_Hitler_

_Goebbels_

_Bormann_

_Goering_

All waiting for them with minimal security, enjoying their bad movie on German film night. They would never get another opportunity like this.

Okay so maybe they shouldn’t have been able to get this far on a half baked plan with the back ups to the back ups but Omar felt good. No fuck that he felt great, cool as can be! Even the Jew Hunter himself complimented him on his shitty Italian. And he wouldn’t let that hold them back from the next part of the plan.

“Hey Sarg.” Omar finally spoke, watching the bigger man look up at him with his deep chocolate eyes, arm still in the trash pulling out used champagne glasses. Donny looked ready to explode ( _no pun intended_ ) from nerves “C’mere.”

Donowitz didn’t fight him on it, he got what he needed and wipes his white gloves on his suit pants before towering over his partner in crime. Omar brought the Bear Jew down to his level, taking the opportunity to give him a much needed peck on the lips.

He couldn’t remember how it had started but the Private took every opportunity he could once he found out the Sargent was a confirmed bachelor ( _or at least half and interested in no less_ ) to kiss him. Donny once called it his good luck charm, even going as far as to demand it before they took down camp each morning so they always made it back alive. Or maybe that was an excuse, Omar wasn’t going to complain. This could very well be the last time they would.

Wicki and Stiglitz were dead because of Hicox and the Gestapo officer. Aldo was missing in action, who knows about Utivich. They had four targets and a war to win. And wouldn’t it be just a bit ironic that the mass murdering dictator of a hateful regime was axed by two gay Jews?

“You got this. I’m here for you. We are going to do this.” The Private mouthed affirmations as he let the big man slip into his arms. Donny softly groaned, clinging to Omar while burying his face in his shoulder. _Was Donny actually trembling?_

Omar wasn’t afraid to die, well not really anyways. After years of fighting in backwoods France and spending every moment like it was their last, he accepted it a long time ago. But Donny, he still sometimes talked about what he would do after the war. When he would get back to Boston, show everyone his famous bat and the dog tags he collected as trophies. He talked and talked about seeing his little brother, the one he hadn’t heard from who was fighting the Pacific. He even talked about taking Omar on a proper date, a real one to his favorite little shop in Boston if Ulmer promised to drive from his parents place out of New York to visit. He would, he wished he could more than anything.

The tenderness lasted all of maybe thirty seconds but it felt like thirty minutes to the pair. It right Donowitz back on track, bring him back to the confident man the Private knew he was. Before Omar could blink, Donny was back to fixing himself up as a faux waiter, planting the odd firing mechanism on his wrist to take out the lonely guards. Whoever was in charge of security really was doing a shit job. 

Omar followed him, loading his own device and hiding their remaining weapons. They needed to time everything just right with the gun shots in the movie masking their intentions. He decided to focus again, adjusting the weapon as the Bear Jew prepared to approach the private box.

“You’ve only got seconds to get that guy, can you get the guy?” Donny finally spoke, looking up at Omar for confirmation.

“I have to!” Was all that was needed for him to go forward. Loaded with water and a fake tray, Donny winked to him before existing the men’s room.

Omar thought of that date in Boston as he watched from the sidelines, waiting for his chance to make history.


End file.
